


The Network

by Unpretentiousfan



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Family, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Swearing, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretentiousfan/pseuds/Unpretentiousfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ben had suggested a way to utilise the siblings’ fame through networking with other fans he thought it’d be fun. He also thought it might increase his chances of getting laid.</p><p>At least that had been the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Network

**Author's Note:**

> I really love the movie Hansel and Gretel Witch hunters. There are so many reasons why I love it. It's certainly not a traditionally "great" movie but it's not trying to be. One of the main reasons I love this movie is because it revolves around a bad ass brother and sister team who love each other. Their dynamic reminds me of the relationship I have with my own brother, like seriously we could be twins despite being born 4 years apart. Also Gemma Arterton in leather pants is a nice bonus. 
> 
> For my first foray into fan fiction writing I decided to do something a little light hearted and meta. The idea of characters reacting to fan fiction is not a new idea (in fact it's a staple plot bunny for plenty of fandoms - Supernatural anyone?). The image of Hansel and Gretel reacting to fan mail and fan fiction made me smile and the story just seemed to write itself. 
> 
> All jabs at the fandom for Hansel and Gretel Witch hunters is meant in good fun and absolutely no offence is meant.

When Ben had suggested a way to utilise the siblings’ fame through networking with other fans he thought it’d be fun. He also thought it might increase his chances of getting laid.

At least that had been the plan. 

“I don’t like it,” Hansel says upon hearing Ben’s proposal. 

Ben notices Hansel says that about everything. Unless it involved money, killing witches, women or booze he tended not to care. Or at least he pretended not to.

He’d decided to share his idea over a meal in the tavern hoping the alcohol would make them more receptive. 

Gretel sips her ale thoughtfully as she considers it.

“Could be useful. We’d have more eyes and ears in witch country and a place to stay at least”.

Her gaze flicks to Ben’s thick scrapbook. He’d pulled it out during his speech as evidence of their widespread fame.

“If they’re all as dedicated as Ben they could bring us more jobs”.

Ben tries to suppress his inner glee at that. During their short time together she’d gone from saying his passion for the scrapbook was weird to a begrudging acceptance. It was progress.

An unsteady Hansel noticeably perks up at the prospect of more money.

“They’re not getting a finder’s fee,” he half slurs.

“Meeting you is all the reward they’d want,” Ben assures him. Hansel grunts his approval before he lurches off to refill his stein.

That night Ben and Gretel work out a system of mail drops so fans can send letters to them. Fans in more remote villages would pass their letters onto those in towns with a newspaper printing press. Those fans would then send the letters to the town mentioned in the latest newspaper story about their latest adventure. All they needed to do was place a notice extolling the system in the next newspaper article about the witch hunters. It was simple really. 

The first time Ben receives a letter from another fan through the network he beams with pride. The letter is from a woman who’d noticed strange disappearances along the southern trail that cut through the forest to a neighbouring village.

When they investigate they encounter a particularly vile group of tree witches. They’d snatch the tired travellers off the road then keep them drugged and bound in their larder until they needed fresh meat.

After the job, Hansel thumps him on the back and gives him an encouraging smile. Gretel suggests he should at least get a share of the job’s earnings this time. They end up agreeing over an ale and a hearty tavern meal that if Ben manages to get them any more paying jobs through the network he’ll get ten percent.

Now as Ben looks through the letters from the latest mail drop he realizes how naïve he’d been to think it would be fun. Or easy.

Initially he’d only found a few letters at first. They were innocuous. Letters professing the author’s undying love for Hansel or Gretel or both.

Occasionally there had been a sketch of the siblings or a story a fan had written to him about an adventure Ben knew the witch hunters had never been on. He’d kept those in his scrapbook separated from the letters he passed onto them. After all, these fans had gone to a great deal of effort. It would add extra colour to his dedicated chronicling of the witch hunters’ adventures. It had absolutely nothing to do with the realistic nude sketches of Gretel that someone kept mailing in. He’d been an irresponsible chronicler if he left things out.

As word spread of the witch hunters “fan network” the volume of letters Ben received increased. Unfortunately none of these letters had any real leads on witch sightings.

The first few times Ben admits there are no cases worth following up the siblings don’t care. However Ben’s certain Gretel’s starting to get suspicious. Especially as the bag of “fan network” mail he carried was growing larger each time.

As an act of self-preservation, Ben had started hiding the scrapbook and the bag of collected fan work. It was silly he knew as Hansel and Gretel had a wicked sense of humour. Even so, he was still unsure how they would react to some of their dedicated fans more creative interpretations of their lives.

“Ha! I knew it”.

Ben jerks to a stop, mid-sorting the mail, like a rabbit caught in a snare. He looks up.

Gretel stands in the doorway to the inn’s room. Her arms crossed. She eyes the large pile of letters on the bed.

“You’ve got some explaining to do Benjamin”.

Ben gulps. She only ever calls him that when he’s in trouble.

When Gretel had caught him red handed Ben had imagined plenty of different scenarios on how she might react. Most involved her inflicting pain on him or yelling. He hadn’t expected this.

She was laughing. Hysterically.

Gretel had demanded he bring all the letters he’d hidden to the tavern so that both her and Hansel could read them over dinner. To give them some semblance of privacy, the trio had wedged themselves around a small table in the back corner of the bustling tavern.

As Ben watches Gretel he genuinely worries she’ll break a rib. She pauses to gasp for air, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Hansel frowns.

“It’s not that funny”.

Gretel reads from a letter in an exaggerated softer, girly falsetto, “Oh Hansel, I long for your strong virile arms around me as we make love under the milky twilight?”

“My fans don’t draw naked pictures of me”, Hansel says to her with a smug “so there” look on his face. Gretel rolls her eyes.

“Well actually… ”, Ben says, remembering some particularly detailed sketches of Hansel in all his glory. He wisely stops at Hansel’s pointed glare. Gretel chuckles.

Gretel is the first to stumble across a fan story amongst the letters. Her brow crinkling in the way it does when she’s confused or mulling over a particularly complex problem.

“There are people who spend time writing fictional stories about us?”

“People like to imagine what happens after the reported stories”, Ben explains.

“I’ve got more stories”, Hansel says. He gives his sister a challenging smirk daring her to refute his claim.

“I doubt that very much”.

“Let’s make it interesting then. If I have more stories you pay for drinks”, Hansel dares her.

“You’re on”.

They’d started reading the fan stories in earnest then. Hansel and Gretel would quietly turn pages and shuffle them into piles as Ben nervously watched.

“Most of these are actually well written,” Gretel observes, genuine surprize in her voice. Hansel nods in agreement.

They continue reading and sorting through the mail without further complaint. Ben’s body relaxes at their reactions. I’m going to survive this after all he thinks.

That is until, Hansel picks up a particularly thick fan story from the pile. He takes a gulp from his stein as he skims the letter. His eyes widen at something and then he’s choking on his ale.

Gretel looks up at Hansel’s coughing.

At her arched eyebrow he shoves the offending page in front of her. She smirks.

“I always thought you and Ben would make a cute couple”.

He glowers at her before they get back to reading.

“Now that’s impossible,” Gretel scoffs, this time she’s the one interrupting the tallying up of stories.

A curious Hansel reads over her shoulder, “See Gretel? Even strangers can spot the sexual tension between you and Edward”.

“How do they think we fuck?” she ponders out loud with a disgusted grimace.

She looks to Ben for an answer like somehow he’s the expert on all this fandom. He clears his throat, feeling his face flush with heat.

“Most stories have Edward turning human. You know because you ahh- kiss him and your love breaks the curse”.

Hansel laughs as Gretel mutters, “That’s now how trolls are created”. Her exasperation at the authors’ ignorance clear.

The two lapse into silence once more as they get back to reading the letters.

Hansel and Ben’s curiosity are both piqued the next time when Gretel snorts, “Yeah. Not my type”.

At their insistence, she shows them the stories. In the stories fans have imagined her and Mina falling in love. While reading them Ben had struggled not to blush at the stories detailed erotic scenes involving the two beautiful women.

“If I started stealing women from Hansel he’d never get laid”.

Hansel sarcastically laughs as he shoves her playfully. His expression darkens a moment later as if her jab has suddenly shaken loose a memory.

“Antwerp”, he says.

Is he _pouting_? Ben asks himself as Hansel’s expression turns sullen. His eyes narrow and his lips purse in a way that suspiciously look like a pout.

“Not this again,” Gretel sighs in a long suffering way. Her eyes rolling at her brother’s expression.

Usually when they did that twin thing Ben had to prompt one of them to actually explain the whole story. However this time Ben’s perplexed expression seems to spur Hansel down memory lane. It's that or the ale. Probably the ale, Ben thinks.

Two summers ago Hansel explains they’d been hired to a sleepy little hamlet to take out a poisonous sea hag. Actually _“backwards shit hole”_ had been his exact words. After presenting its head to the _“fucking deluded”_ mayor of the town, Gretel’s words, the hunters had collected their money and stopped at a tavern in Antwerp to rest up.

This was where the siblings’ accounts of the story diverged. With the exception of their very detailed description of Katja the barmaid who had served them at the tavern. Apparently she was a real beauty with long red hair, green eyes, long legs, a cute giggle, great listening skills and –

A bunch of other adjectives Ben was sure he missed. His attention had started to wander after the first minute of their collective gushing. Gretel is the one who notices his bored expression. With a sheepish grin she nudges Hansel with her elbow to get him back on point.

“Katja had been making eyes at me all night while I recounted our brave tales of witch hunting”.

Gretel scoffs as she takes a drink from her stein.

“It’s true!” Hansel half slurs. He belches loudly before taking another gulp of ale. He pulls the younger man closer and stage whispers, “She was ready to go if you know what I mean”.

He winks at Ben. Ben nods sagely like he understands. He's learnt from experience that it’s better to just go along with him in this state.

“So….I waited for Katja to finish for the night and offered to escort her home”.

He scowls at his sister, “Then she punched me in the face”. He gestures to his right eye. “And took Katja home instead”.

Gretel gives him another long suffering sigh.

“First off, Katja wasn’t making eyes at you. She was worried you were going to keel over. She hated those fucking stories and by the end of the night you were so drunk you jumped out at her and demanded to take her home for her own good”.

Ben tries and fails to suppress a snigger at Gretel’s version of events.

Hansel frowns, “I don’t remember that”.

“You’re lucky no one called the sheriff”, Gretel says with a fond smile.

“She had really nice tits”, Hansel sighs.

Gretel’s eyes glint mischievously, “They were even better up close”.

Hansel glares at her, flicking a discarded peanut at her nose. She easily bats it away with a satisfied smirk.

Their good spirits evaporate almost instantly when they discover what Ben calls his “burn pile”. 

Ben partly called it that because each mail drop he pulled the offending fan letters and stories out from the pile and burnt them. It was also called that because the contents of said fan mail burned images into his brain that not even ale seemed to be able to erase. Ben had noticed with concern that the proportion of “burn pile” to the more innocuous fan works had grown in volume each time he’d collected the mail. Gretel catching him in the act this time meant he hadn’t had time to remove them.

“What the fuck is this?” Hansel asks. A dangerous undercurrent to his voice that usually meant trouble for the recipient.

As Hansel and Gretel look to Ben for answers, their eyes wide, looking pale and queasy, he’s genuinely worried they might actually start vomiting right then and there.

Ben tugs at his shirt collar. They’d found _those_ stories. Why was it so hot in here? And why couldn’t he breathe all of a sudden?

“Well, ahh with your lack of success with women-”

He sneaks a peek at Gretel. She’s calm. Too calm. Ben thinks she’s either paralysed by rage or in a state of shock. He prays it’s the latter.

“And Gretel’s lack of interest in men. Some. Not everyone! Not _me_ -”

Ben could feel his ears burning.

“Assume you’re sleeping together”, he manages to squeak out, his voice tight and high pitched.

Ben winces in preparation for the beat down that he’s sure is his. When one isn’t forthcoming he opens his eyes.

Hansel and Gretel’s focus is on the large pile of offending letters. Both have equally lost expressions.

“What does _ambiguously_ close even mean?”, Hansel asks. His brow furrows, “Do these people even have siblings?”

“At least that makes sense. What’s BAMFcest?” Gretel says, finally breaking her silence.

“I think it’s an acronym”, Ben pipes up. Thanking all the old gods and the new for surviving the conversation. “You know bad ass mother-”

Gretel shoots him a withering glare.

“I know what it means. It just makes no sense in the context of the story. We’re fucking each other not our mother”.

Hansel shudders as if trying to shake off a particularly disturbing image.

“Let’s just burn these and never speak of this again”, Hansel says.

Gretel places her hand on his back, “Don’t worry. After all that ale I’m sure you won’t even remember reading it”, she says.

Ben can feel the full intensity of Gretel’s stare on him as he focuses on clearing the table of fan mail. He meets her gaze. Swallows.

“Shut it down tomorrow”.

“We could still get some real leads”.

Gretel arches a sceptical eyebrow at that.

“They jumped to the conclusion that my disinterest in men was _obviously_ because I was fucking my brother”.

“Only _some_ of them”, Ben says defensively.

“Could you both stop talking about that!?” Hansel asks, his voice strained and much higher than normal.

“The rest of our fans are weird, desperate and obsessed with us visiting their shit hole towns”, Gretel says.

You mean like me, Ben thinks miserably. His stomach twisting like he’s been physically punched in the gut.

“I’ll shut it down”, he mutters.

“Ben?”

The softness in her voice causes him to look up from clearing the table.

“What?” he asks. Trying hard not to let his hurt feelings show.

“We don’t think of you as a fan. You’re a valued part of the team”, Gretel says. She gives him a warm smile. Ben pretends he doesn’t feel the table shudder from the sharp kick to Hansel’s shin.

Hansel who’d placed his head on the table and closed his eyes during the conversation suddenly jerks awake.

“Yeah what she says”, he mumbles, half asleep.

“If I’m so valuable why don’t I get a share of the team’s earnings?” Ben asks, his eyes narrowing sceptically.

“You’re an apprentice”, Gretel says, as if somehow that should explain everything.

“Other apprentices get paid”.

“Other apprentices would pull the cart”, Hansel grumbles from his spot.

“How about we pay you an apprentice rate?” Gretel asks.

“Sounds fair”, Ben says. Surprizing even himself with how calm his voice sounds.

“It’s coming out of your share”, Hansel mutters.

Gretel lightly slaps him on the head in response. “We’ll discuss the specifics when we’re all sober”.

Not too shabby Wossler, Ben thinks to himself later that night as he drifts off to sleep. Not only had he survived the whole fan mail fiasco he was going to get paid. Not bad at all for a little weird boy from Augsburg.


End file.
